Close Encounters of the Combustible Kind
by Gumi Reloaded
Summary: Sequel to Explanations and Explorations After target practice Saitoh and Tokio discover the evening holds an unpleasant surprise.
1. Chapter 1

This story is the sequel to Explanations and Explorations. You may want to read it first to have a better understanding of what happens in the following story.

**Close Encounters of the Combustible Kind**

**Date:** Monday, February 6, 2060  
**Time:** Evening  
**Location:** New Meiji Department of Justice (Parking Garage)  
**Characters:** Saitoh, Tokio

**Saitoh**

**DING**

The elevator chimed faintly as the doors opened. Saitoh allowed Takagi to go first then followed her into the section of the DOJ Complex that housed the employee parking garages. As they walked through the nearly deserted hallways their footsteps timed to each other, Saitoh's mind replayed the events that had occurred at the armory and shooting range. So much had happened this evening; so many needful things had been said and explained. Some of the disclosures had been difficult for both of them, while other aspects of the mutual discovery had been nothing short of delightful.

Saitoh glanced down at Takagi's face. Though no longer tucked tight against his arm, she'd chosen to remain close, so that as they'd made the long walk up from the shooting range and through the deserted, maze like corridors of the DOJ, their hands and shoulders had occasionally brushed up against each other.

Once again, the enigmatic female had caught him off guard. He'd assumed that she would want to discuss more of her thoughts and memories with him, that her penchant for speaking her mind would translate into more conversation. Instead, she'd kept mostly quiet during the long walk up from the shooting range. He'd been the one to initiate conversation, when he'd answered her question about who Tsutomu was. When she'd learned that the name in her mind belonged to an all too serious seven year old boy, and that this boy had a three year old brother, her tender reaction had deeply touched and relieved him. One of the reasons he'd been loath to even consider pursuing a relationship with another woman had been the risk that his motherless children would not be accepted and loved in the manner that they deserved- an intolerable idea to be sure.

(I wonder how the boys will react when they meet her?)

While Tsuyoshi had thankfully inherited Yaso's warm and personable nature, the child had no memory of his mother. He did well with strangers though (too well in the cautious policeman's opinion) and Saitoh suspected that Takagi would easily bond with the laughing, demonstrative child. Tsutomu on the other hand, DID remember his mother, particularly the way she'd been taken from him and had, with the exception of Katsu and Watanabe, taken pains not to form any attachments with other adult females.

The shock of seeing his mother lying dead on the kitchen floor and then having his father withdraw and become a sullen, useless drunk had done no small measure of damage to Tsutomu's still developing personality and the boy would likely struggle with any changes to Saitoh Family dynamic. Saitoh set his concerns aside for a moment as he and Takagi took one last elevator to parking section A7 (his sedan was located two floors down on A5). There would be time enough for him to plan and consider the best way to make these critical introductions.

The elevator door opened again. He held it open and then followed the attorney into the dimly lit garage. Out of habit, he carefully scanned the nearly deserted section. There were six cars remaining, all unoccupied. Her car, a black rather sedate looking Honda, was in the middle of the section parked where the lighting was the brightest. Saitoh approved of this, but made a mental note that when he was able and if their schedules permitted it, he would make sure to walk her out to car every evening going forward.

Takagi took out her keys and pressed a key pad that deactivated the locks on the vehicle with a mechanical click and a flicker of the car headlights.

It was time to part ways.

**Tokio**

For the most part the walk back to her car was done in companionable silence. So, Tsutomu was the name of his oldest son. She'd bet that it was also the name of *their* oldest son. History did have a way of repeating itself, and Tokio was sure that she was the woman in her vision, who had given birth and called the child, Tsutomu. She supposed that she should ask him about that, but she preferred to continue basking in the afterglow of that very pleasant kiss, still wanting to keep the memory of that moment alive.

She wanted to kiss him good-bye, too. But she would never aim for his cheek again; she wanted to feel those soft lips of his on hers at least one more time. But this was a more public place, and she didn't want to risk such a personal display out in the open. Plus, she knew there were a lot of surveillance cameras in the DOJ garages. Thankfully, they'd been the only ones in the firing range tonight, and were granted the privacy that their encounter demanded. Oh, but there were probably cameras in the practice range, too. Perhaps Officer Wantanabe, out of consideration for her boss, would erase anything compromising. Tokio could only hope that would be the case.

Instead of trying for another kiss, she took one of his hands in hers, squeezing it lightly, looking directly into his eyes. "Thank you for everything. I know it couldn't have been easy for you, but what we said tonight to each other was very necessary, if we are to continue moving forward." Reluctantly, she let his hand go to open the door of her black Honda Accord, then lingered beside it rather than settling down in the front seat.

When would she see him again? She was loath to part from him without knowing that. "Could we have lunch sometime?" she asked shyly. If he wanted to continue reacquainting with her, this would give him an opening. If he didn't, he could always give an excuse about never taking a lunch break. She'd bet that he rarely did, anyway, since he was so dedicated to his work. Her mind flashed back to carrying a bento into the Tokyo Metro Police Department and leaving it on his desk. She smiled at the memory. She was on the brink of really believing everything he'd said about them in the past. They had too many shared memories for it to be a fluke.

**Saitoh**

Being the sort of man who enjoyed solving a good mystery, Saitoh had his hands full at the moment.

First and foremost there was the matter of something being off. The sense of off-ness was nothing remotely overt, just a quiet, niggling little whisper in the back of his mind. It felt like the echo of something, he decided as he silently scanned the nearly deserted garage, though for the life of him, he couldn't identify from whence the discordant feeling sprang. He and Takagi were the only people in the garage, of this he was certain. The building was secure, as secure as anything in the city could be.

(So what is it?)

Saitoh exhaled slowly and considered what could be inciting this low grade sense of disquiet. He wanted a cigarette, but smoking was not permitted in the garage and he wasn't the type to disregard the rule of law, just because he didn't personally think much of the mandate. That was not the way things worked.

When he inhaled, the nagging whisper came back, a little louder than before.

(Interesting….the trigger is olfactory)

The problem was that he couldn't smell anything troubling in the garage, other than the faintest hint of oddly scented bakery goods that someone must have left to go stale in a backseat, the bitter, filtered odor of motor oil and exhaust residue, and the much more enjoyable, yet fading hint of cherry blossoms.

He'd already gone a round with that particular scent this evening, what with Takagi's hair and perfume doing their damndest to drive him to distraction. Perhaps that was it - the sense of vague, unfocused unease was due to the fact he was going against his instincts where a certain attorney was concerned.

This led to the second mystery.

_"Could we have lunch sometime?" _Her voice was soft and hesitant, as if she was suddenly uncertain if he wanted to interact with her again. This made no sense at all, especially considering her interest was also apparent, based on the pleased little smile she'd carried up with her from the shooting range and the way her eyes kept tracking back towards the general vicinity of his mouth.

(Inscrutable woman…are you worried that you're being too forward with me again? Is that what this is?)

She had no reason to doubt herself or him, not after the evening they'd spent. He'd let her borrow his gun for crying out loud and had her fitted for body armor and then spent half the evening in conversation, using words like "feelings" and "connections" to try and describe the inexorable pull he felt whenever he was around this woman. As far as he was concerned, that was tantamount to an open declaration of his intentions.

"Is that what you really want? Lunch?" he asked dryly as he walked over to where she was learning against her decidedly sensible black Honda.

Intentionally stepping into what the moronic counselor at this son's school called a person's "personal bubble" he reached out and brushed a rebellious lock of hair out of her expressive eyes. "Or do you want something else?"

He certainly did. **He wanted his wife back.**

With that thought in mind, Saitoh slid one hand up and around the base of her skull, his strong fingers cradling the delicate arc of her neck. "I'm not at all inclined to engage in public displays of affection, but for you, I would be willing to make the occasional exception," he half growled, half teased as he looked for and found proof enough that she also wanted more than a casual sit down dining experience.

He did his level best to oblige her, giving her a kiss that was slightly more demanding than the first, but no less tender. He felt her stiffen up slightly… then she sighed against his mouth and leaned into him a little, wrapping her arms around his neck.

They broke apart a few seconds later. "You'd better get out of here," he muttered, opening the door for her. As the door opened wide, he again picked up the faintest hint of what smelled like old, stale almond cookies, the barely-there scent at once both vaguely familiar and increasingly troubling.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said as he shut the car door once she was safely inside, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as he turned and began walking away from her vehicle. Something was wrong…but he was missing critical evidence as to what exactly was amiss.

He heard the starter motor engage and activate the ignition system, but the engine did not start, but rather stalled. Saitoh glanced back, wondering if her battery had failed. The starter rolled again and then the scent of almonds, no longer stale and dull, but sharp and toxically sweet slammed into him. This was a smell he was all too familiar with, this completely different odor, the scent had been burned into his brain several weeks before when...(OH SHIT!)

Saitoh's eyes went wide with horrified realization and he spun around and began sprinting towards the stalled Honda and the woman sitting inside of it.

**Tokio**

"_Is that what you really want? Lunch?"_ Stepping into her personal space and brushing some hair out of her eyes, he added, _"Or do you want something else?" _

He was correct, as usual; she didn't really want lunch. That was only an excuse to see him again soon.

"Well, no," she admitted. "It isn't that I want lunch, necessarily…I just wanted to know when I would see you again...so…that's why I suggested it." What did he expect? He never said he was going to call her. He didn't ask her what she was doing this week, either. A girl shouldn't just leave things hanging with a man, especially when she was sure she would just wither away if she didn't see him again as soon as possible.

That wasn't all of it, either. There was 'something else' she wanted, but she couldn't very well tell him she wanted him to kiss her again, could she? Wasn't that being just a little too forward towards a man you only reacquainted with a mere day ago?

But as he always seemed to do, he read her mind, slipping a hand behind her head and neck to gently cradle them.

_"I'm not at all inclined to engage in public displays of affection, but for you, I would be willing to make the occasional exception"  
_  
Saitoh's words caused a light of understanding to click on in Tokio's brain. A display of affection? For *this* man to say *that* was tantamount to admitting that he liked her…a lot..a whole lot. Talk about a 'melt the heart, weak knee moment', you couldn't get better than this when the wolf is involved… that little voice echoed. This was a classic. His admission turned her heart to pudding….

Then his lips captured hers for a bit more intense, but no less tender, encounter than their first one had been. Slipping her arms around his neck she let her fingers wander into his *very* soft hair, startling at the familiar feel of it. In response he intensified his kiss a little.

Rats. Now all she was going to be doing was looking for some excuse to run her fingers through his hair. All too soon, they parted, much to Tokio's disappointment. He was muttering something about her getting out of there. That made her smile. Hm, not sure he could control himself perhaps? It was only speculation on her part. Still, she did get that additional kiss she wanted, that made two in one night. Not bad. Very good in fact. And the admission he made about 'affection'…that was something very special. A long forgotten thought told her so.

After he'd opened her car door completely Tokio slipped into the leather seat, placing her shoulder bag on the passenger's side. Saitoh closed the door behind her, walking away, telling her he would call her tomorrow. That was good. She knew he would; he was a man of his word. Another guy might tell you that he would call you, and you would never hear from him again. It was a standard brush off technique.

She pressed her thumb to the ID pad for the auto start ignition, but her usually reliable, three year old Honda refused to come to life. Instead it made a bit of a grinding sound. She pressed her thumb on the ignition pad again with no success. Stumped, she was glad that the Captain was still in the garage. She would have to call for roadside assistance, and she was sure that he would wait with her until the service truck arrived. After what happened in the café yesterday she wasn't too keen on staying in a deserted garage alone after dark.

Reaching into her shoulder bag on the seat beside her, she fumbled for her phone to call the auto club. There was a strange smell in her car that she hadn't noticed before…almost like almonds…perhaps she tracked something in on her shoes…probably time to have the carpets cleaned, she mused.

She looked up, hearing a voice roaring, **"Tokio…Get out of the car."**

There was no doubt in her mind who was calling to her and what she would do. She always responded to that voice. Immediately, she reached for the button on the door, opened it, stepping out with one leg …..seeing him running in her direction, a furious look on his face…

**Saitoh**

"TOKIO!" Her name wrenched painfully from his mouth as he sprinted towards the vehicle, "GET OUT OF THE CAR!" Memories of pulling a limp, burnt little body out of what had been a pink car seat hit him like stray gun fire. There had been the same smell that afternoon. The realization had come too late and now….

He saw her look up at him out of the window of her car. A cold, painful fist closed tight around his heart and started to squeeze.

(Not again)

He'd just found her.

(Not again)

He was going to lose her.

(NO!)

Furious with himself for being too stupid to put two and two together, Saitoh snarled, his features contorting with rage at the thought of this woman that he'd lost and only just found again being taken from him.

Time began to crawl, each second stretching painfully, like a man being tortured on a medieval rack. As if in slow motion, Saitoh saw the car door open, and Takagi put one leg out.

Leaning forward, almost over extending, he threw the card door open hard enough that the glass on the driver's side shattered and grabbed the attorney by her upper arm and yanked her as hard as he humanly could away from the vehicle.

She cried out, whether in surprise or pain he couldn't say as the violent action wrenched her from the car. She stumbled forward, landing hard on the concrete floor and losing a shoe in the process but was given no time to recover. Saitoh grabbed her arm and yanked her again, lifting her off her feet and into his arms, crushing her against his chest as he threw himself back as hard as he could, hoping that he'd been able to get both of them out of what he knew from horrible experience was a sizable lethal blast radius. He heard a strange electrical click, then the smell of sickly sweet almond paste* intensified to the point of making his stomach sick.

Time

Was

UP

As he fell back, Saitoh closed his eyes, and pulled Tokio close to him. He felt her embrace him as well, her slender arms tightening around his waist. There was a soft click, then a hiss and then nothing but light and heat and sound.

The plastic explosives detonated beneath the engine of the Honda, creating a fireball that first imploded, sucking up most of the air in the enclosed garage as oxygen mixed with composite C4 and the electrical current from the car, and then exploded up and out, sending surging gases and white hot metal, glass and other fragmented shrapnel careening through the air. The garage was violently illuminated with light to the point that retinas shut down, unable to process the lumens.

Less than a millisecond later the shockwave moved out from the center of the blast, propelling the black Honda fifteen feet in the air. The burning wreckage landed on its side on top of a blue Toyota. Gasoline hemorrhaged out of the split open vehicle, igniting other vehicles. The blast also pushed other cars back, blew out windows one level up and one level beneath and set every car alarm in the complex off, creating a cacophony of bells, whistles and sirens.

It was these sirens that Saitoh woke up to.

Lying on his back, he opened his eyes, his vision blurry, black filaments marring his line of sight. Stunned he looked up at the ceiling, watching pitch colored smoke writhe and twist among the structural support beams. Ears ringing, Saitoh blinked. There was something in his eyes.

He tried to lift a hand to his face, but one of his arms was pinned down.

He blinked again and then coughed. There was blood in his mouth. In his nose. He spat and tried to sit up, to clear his vision, but something was on him.

Saitoh lifted his head up, the action causing an explosion of pain at the back of his skull and his vision to blur. The power was out, but there was plenty of sickly flickering yellow and orange light, courtesy of three cars on fire and several puddles of flaming gasoline, plenty of illumination to show him exactly what…exactly who was impeding his movement.

Tokio's face was tucked against his neck and shoulder and one arm was around his waist, despite being hurled nearly five car lengths. Her other arm hung limply at her side. She was lying on her side, her long legs tangled with his, her torso curled up against one side of him as if she was asleep.

"Takagi-san" Saitoh rasped. The wind had been knocked from him and with the amount of smoke in the air, breathing was difficult. He shook the woman with his free hand and tried to sit them both up.

She didn't respond and slid down a little, as if she couldn't support the slight change in position.

Saitoh frowned and shook her again, this time harder.

No response.

He quickly pressed his fingers against her neck, looking for and thankfully finding a pulse. It was weak though and slower than it should be. Saitoh tried to detect her breath against his neck and moved his hand to her ribs, trying to gauge the strength of her respiration. She wasn't breathing.

Carefully, yet quickly, he rolled the woman on to her back. His heart sank when he saw the color of her lips. They were pale from a lack of oxygen. He knelt down and tilted her head back, tilting her chin up; sliding one hand protectively beneath her neck, praying that she didn't have any spinal injuries. The motion forced her mouth to open slightly. He bent down, pinched her nose and covered her mouth with his and blew air into her lungs. He could feel her lungs expanding. He broke the seal and heard the air escape with a flaccid hiss, but she did not take the next breath, so he took it for her.

"Wake up," He ordered in between breaths. Her pulse was becoming thready and her lips were now dark blue. He covered her mouth with his again and exhaled, forcing the contents of his lungs into hers.

Nothing.

"Come on," Saitoh growled, becoming angry at the horrible lack of response. He checked her pulse. Her heart was starting to falter.

"Dammit, Tokio, you had better start breathing or there will be hell to pay!" he yelled at her, his voice imperative and angry. He bent down and blew into her lungs again.

**Tokio**

He was calling her name, *her* name…_**"TOKIO"  
**_  
The car door flew back on its hinges, glass shattered.

Pain…a lot of pain…her arm was being yanked off. She was moving. Was that her voice?

Hard surface. ..More pain… More yanking, lifting now…I know those arms…Hajime…it's Hajime…

Still moving. Strange smell. Need to clean the carpets in the car.

Warm body…familiar…hold on to him…don't let go….don't ever let him go….never let him leave you again…

Can't breathe…blast…light…heat…Hajime, it hurts…It hurts so much…

Stillness….blackness…nothingness….no…not nothing…there was something…

But where was she? In Aizu? No, she wasn't there. This house was very old. Bunkyo Ward, maybe. Yes. That is where they lived, wasn't it? She was really having trouble remembering things these days. Goro was surely going to tell her that she was losing her mind. Was she? She hoped not. If she were to really lose her mind, who would take care of the boys? Certainly not that witch of a sister-in-law. How a man like her husband could even be related to such a woman was more than Tokio could comprehend.

What was her name…Katsu, maybe?

She opened her eyes and closed them again. The man leaning over her was wearing a blue wool jacket, white gloves, and a hat. Goro. It was Goro. Now she knew. Now she remembered what it was she knew about those gloves of his. She couldn't remember until now. The kanji embroidered inside. She did it. They were the kanji for…..

_**"Dammit, Tokio, you had better start breathing or there will be hell to pay!"**_

'Yes, husband, I will,' she tried to tell him, but no words came out. Goro was angry with her…he was yelling at her. He never raised his voice to her. Had he been drinking again? She hoped not. He didn't drink often. He was not always a pleasant man when he drank, but he never yelled. She would obey him, she always obeyed him, because she loved him, and she knew that he only wanted what was best for her.

Confusion washed over Tokio…then…

It seemed like air was being forced into her chest…her lungs were on fire…they hurt...

Tokio…shuddered, inhaling a sharp, shaky breath...where was she?

She was in her Honda, ready to go home…but it wouldn't start. Captain Saitoh yelled at her to get out of the car…then he grabbed her…and here she was on what felt like a hard surface. Was she on her back? Was she still in the parking garage? She tried to open her eyes again, but the image was fuzzy. She *felt* who was beside her. He would never leave her…she would surely die if he did…

She tried to raise her arm, but it barely moved from the floor. She wanted to touch his face. Oh how she hurt. Every spot on her body seemed to throb. Her chest ached so much, each breath was an agony. She couldn't talk. Her throat was so dry. It even hurt to smile, but she tried…

**Saitoh**

The cold fist around his heart clenched hard.

(Don't do this…)

Saitoh took a deep breath, held it and then exhaled forcefully into the unresponsive woman's upturned mouth. Her lips were growing cold beneath his.

(Don't die…)

"Tokio," Bent over her prone body, he called to her, as one might to a loved one who was wandering out of sight, his deep voice cracking with anguish as he took in the deepening, nearly lifeless pallor of her cheeks, eyes and mouth. Blood, dripping from his nose fell on her cheek, crimson spattering on ivory. "Stay with me, Tokio."

He tried to wipe the blood away with hands that were becoming unsteady, but only ended up smearing a streak of it on her cold skin.

**(Don't leave me…)** He'd waited several lifetimes to be whole again and have his better half by his side. The thought of being parted from his mate, of being alone again was too painful to contemplate.

Tokio shuddered, her body convulsing. Saitoh sighed with relief and put a hand over her heart, willing it to keep beating, to grow stronger. Grey eyes snapped open. Her pupils were huge…dilated, her focus unfixed and glazed dully with shock.

"That's it," Saitoh urged, bending down once more, not to breathe on her behalf, but to caress her face and brush back her hair in wordless encouragement as the attorney's mouth opened of her own volition and took a rattling, painful breath….and then another.

"Open your eyes for me…"

She blinked feebly, as if her sight was lacking then turned towards the sound of his voice. She tried to lift her hand, but something was wrong and Saitoh could tell that the motion clearly pained her. It only took the most cursory of examinations to realize that her slender right shoulder was at an utterly unnatural angle. It had been dislocated, though he couldn't say whether the injury came as a result of being pulled from the car or being thrown back several yards from the concussion blast.

"I have to re-set this, try and relax if you can," Saitoh warned, not entirely sure if she could understand what he was saying, already dreading the additional pain he was about to inflict. Still it was better he do this now, rather than wait when she was fully conscious and the shoulder was inflamed and swelling. Saitoh slid one hand beneath her back, and put the other over and slightly to the side of her hurt shoulder and with a firm jerk and steady downward pressure, felt the injured ball slip back with an audible, dull snap into the shoulder socket.

"All done," Saitoh said gruffly, as Tokio groaned in pain and fresh tears tracked down her still unfocused eyes. "Forgive me, Tokio…" he leaned over and softly kissed her forehead, trying to soothe, needing the contact. He'd promised to keep her safe, a vow he'd ultimately been unable to perfectly keep. The fact that he'd just had a direct hand in her suffering only made things worse.

**Hisssss**

Saitoh looked over his shoulder. Paint on the pinned Toyota was starting to hiss, blister and bubble across the top of the crushed hood of the car as the fire from what was left of Tokio's Honda spread. Windshield wipers curled, the rubber melting and washer fluid began to boil and the hose bindings snapped, sending scalding liquid everywhere. The radiant heat from the fire was increasing, causing sweat to pool beneath his uniform and clothing.

(Why in the hell haven't the sprinklers gone off?)

He looked up at the ceiling, though it was hidden by acrid black smoke. Even with the power off, backup systems and alarms should have gone off, triggering sprinklers and fire retardant be released into the garage. Icy, methodical rage bit hard into the pit of his stomach as he realized that the only alarms going off were those of damaged vehicles, that the strange power outage they'd experienced down in the armory had been deliberate, a precursor to attempted murder. He looked down at the injured and vulnerable woman lying beside him. His blood chilled as he recalled watching her life slipping away, then began to boil a second later when Tokio, despite the pain he knew she was in, tried to smile at him.

Saitoh picked Tokio up, cradling her limp body against his chest. (Save that smile for someone who deserves it….) he thought, upset that he'd allowed her to come to harm. (I underestimated how badly someone wants you dead….it will not happen again)

For reasons still unknown, Tokio was marked for death, despite having been in the city for only a few weeks. He needed answers and needed them quickly. Grinding his teeth so hard together that he swore he could feel the enamel cracking, Saitoh vowed that he'd hunt down and utterly destroy whoever was responsible for this. He had lost one woman who he loved to senseless violence and would be damned before he lost another.

The smoking skeleton of the burning Honda shifted, over heating metal bending and groaning as the Toyota beneath it caught fire. They made it to the stairwell door (as the elevator would not be working) before the Toyota blew, sending another blast of heat and shrapnel ricocheting through the already battered garage.

Saitoh tightened his hold on Tokio, as a fiery, hellish rain of melted plastic and superheated metal began to fall around them and kicked the door open, the power of the blow bypassing the locking mechanism. Quickly, he carried the woman inside the stairwell and began to descend the steps, down to the level where he'd parked his car. He needed to get Tokio out of here before whoever tried to kill hear realized they'd failed and decided that another attempt on the woman's life was in order.

**Tokio**

"_Tokio. Stay with me, Tokio. That's it. Open your eyes for me."_

Her mind responded with a 'yes, husband, I will stay with you.' Why does he think I won't, she questioned herself. Her body finally responded with a first convulsive breath, before it settled into a more even, but still ragged, rate of respiration.

Gradually, her senses began to return. She was almost able to focus on the face that was leaning over her. Her less than lucid mind told her at first that it was Goro, then that it was Hajime. His voice was cracking, he sounded anguished. A pang hit her heart; she didn't want him to worry because of her, and she could tell by his tone that he was very, very worried. His voice was as familiar to her as her own, so she could tell. That was one of the benefits of having been married to someone for so many years. -There were those thoughts again-.

She was still quite groggy; it was a struggle to regain full consciousness, but she felt something dripping on her face. Tears? As she recognized the smell of blood, she was filled with terror. Was Hajime bleeding? Then a warm hand smoothed across her cheek, soothing her, before it rested over her heart. It was enough to make her want to cry.

She continued to take deeper, more regular breaths. Her chest didn't hurt quite so much, but her right shoulder was killing her. Something terrible must have happened, but she had no way of knowing what it was beyond a fire of some sort. The acrid air told her that oil and gas were burning. She needed to know what was going on, but she would have to ask him later, because there was no way she could concentrate when her shoulder hurt like hell, and felt strange to boot.

_"I have to re-set this, try and relax if you can,"_

When she felt hands position themselves, both beneath and above her shoulder, she understood what he was referring to, realizing that it must be dislocated. He was right. He had to put it back in place or she would continue to be in agony. She nodded for him to proceed, gritting her teeth, instead of relaxing. With a shove, a pop, and an audible expression of pain on her part, her arm went back into the socket where it belonged. She was still hurting, but now it was much more bearable. She would need to ice it as soon as she got home.

_"Forgive me,"_he told her before he kissed her on the forehead. She reached up with her left hand and touched his cheek, holding her hand against it briefly before reaching back a little farther and running her fingers through his hair. She pulled him toward her, hoping he realized what she wanted. He did. A soft kiss on the lips was good medicine and just what she needed at the moment.

She slumped back, exhausted. When he picked her up, cradling her against him, she snuggled in, feeling safe. She could sense that their ordeal was not yet finished. It was becoming hotter. There was an explosion, debris rained down on them, as he kicked open a door to the stairwell and started down the steps.


	2. Chapter 2 Questions and Answers

Close Encounters Chapter 2

**Saitoh**

"So, I told him that I didn't care what his mother said and that I needed a vacation in the worst possible way?"

Chattering madly on her cell phone, the assistant accountant from Public Relations was in the middle of a rather good gossiping session with her best friend. Rather than go home and deal with her husband, she'd elected to stay late that evening and work on the budget for the new public relations campaign. It was boring, tedious and thankless work, but she was married and was already used to living in such a manner.

Nodding, she listened to the response from her friend, while she nibbled some fruit flavored gumi snacks that she's snagged from the vending machine.

"I know…tell me about it!" She rolled her eyes, "She's completely trying to control me through him. Yes, I hate it."

The door to Parking Level A5 was kicked open. A man emerged, his tall silhouette backlit by the emergency stairwell, carrying a slender woman in his arms.

"Hitomi, sweetie, you will not believe what I'm seeing…." The accountant whispered into her phone.

The man, his narrow face set in the sternest of scowls, walked quickly into the nearly deserted garage, heading for a dark blue foreign sedan parked in the far corner. There was blood on his face and hands. The woman cradled in his arms was as pale as a sheet, her long hair filled with what looked to be pieces of metal or plastic. Smudged with soot and smelling strongly of smoke and gasoline, the odd couple looked like they'd been through hell and back.

The accountant peered through her window as the man came to a concrete divider and with a degree of care that she would not have given the mean looking man credit for, set the woman gently on the floor, then approached his car cautiously, turning the engine on with a remote access key.

"I don't know what the guy is doing. It looks…." She peered at the police officer, trying to understand why the man was checking under the body of the car. "No, I have no clue what he's on about. What a strange man." She looked at the pale woman leaning against the pillar and wondered what her story was in this strange display of what she suspected was police paranoia. "Pretty shabby, if you ask me, for him to put her on the ground."

She watched the police officer come back, pick the woman up and carry her to the passenger side of the sedan and help her inside, then quickly walk to the driver's side, get in and back up and quickly drive out of the garage. "Oh good, it looks like they are leaving," she announced, eager to get back to truly important conversation.

Saitoh was making a right turn when the phone in his car went off. He checked the display and punched the intercom speaker.

"Karen, I…."

He was interrupted by his second in command.

"Is Takagi with you? When was the last time you saw her?"

Saitoh looked over at the still stunned attorney sitting in his front seat.

"Yes, she's here with me. Why?"

"There's been an incident with her security detail. Please keep her with you until I'm able to get more information and follow up with you both."

A muscle in Saitoh's jaw began to twitch. "Yes, we already know about the car bomb," he snapped, turning on the clicker so that he could change lanes.

"So save your breath."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Watanabe's metallic voice nearly overloaded the car's speaker system. "What car bomb!"

Saitoh frowned. Something else had happened? "What incident are you referring to, Watanabe?"

"We lost radio contact with her security detail about an hour ago," There was static on the other end, and the sound of a siren and people talking in hushed, horrified whispers, "and just found the officer's body in the back of a janitor's closet. Someone shot him in the back of the head."

Tokio gasped and then put a hand over her mouth, as if she was trying to stifle the sound that had already escaped. In the low light of the car, her face seemed bloodless.

Saitoh swore and hit the accelerator. "It would seem that we have a larger problem on our hands than previously anticipated." He checked his blind spot and changed lanes, checking carefully to see if he was being tailed as he drove out of the city.

"Are you both all right? Do you need to go to hospital?"

Saitoh looked over at the attorney who managed to shake her head. "No, we only have minor injuries."

"You can't take her home," Watanabe warned "and in light of what happened this evening, a police safe house…"

"Is absolutely out of the question," Saitoh growled, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles went white.

"What are you going to do?"

Saitoh thought about it for a few seconds and then changed lanes again, heading towards a belt route that would take him in an entirely different direction than he'd planned. "I'll see to her security this evening. Would you please call my sister and ask her if the boys can spend the night?"

Karen's response regarding his older sibling was less than charitable, but she agreed. "I'll follow up with you later this evening once I have more details."

"Agreed," Saitoh said and terminated the phone line.

**Tokio**

After being knocked out cold Tokio's ability to process what was happening around her slowly returned. She was aware that Captain Saitoh turned on his car's ignition before getting in, which seemed odd to her at the time. Then when he settled her in the passenger's seat, she actually remembered to reach for the seatbelt, fastening it herself, even though her arm was stiff and still ached.

A call from Officer Wantanabe crackled through the speaker phone, asking Saitoh if he knew the whereabouts of Takagi. *We* already know about the car bomb her companion responded to his second. What car bomb, the prosecutor asked herself. Was *that* what happened back in the parking garage? The only way to find out was to ask the Captain some questions as soon as this call ended.

There seemed to be some confusion between Saitoh and Wantanabe. It was soon apparent that each was talking about a separate incident. She couldn't stifle a gasp, when she learned that her security detail had been found dead in a closet. She didn't even know that she had a security detail.

The attorney was glad that her reasoning skills were gradually returning. She figured she would need them, if she was going to make any sense out of this mess, whatever it was. Discovery was always the first item of business in any legal matter, and that was what she aimed to do as soon as she had her chance.

When Officer Wantanabe's call ended, Tokio began her quest.

"What happened in the garage?" she rasped to him, her voice still on the weak side.

"It was a car bomb," Saitoh's voice was hard with anger.

Her throat was so dry; she wished she had a drink of water. She concentrated for a moment. If she remembered correctly, he literally yelled at her to get out of her car right before he yanked on her arm and she blacked out.

"In my car?" she asked, a sick feeling beginning to settle in her stomach.

Saitoh nodded then reluctantly added, "There are parallels to this explosion and the one that killed Fujita and his family." He wiped his nose on his sleeve to get rid of a few new droplets of blood, "Whoever planted the bomb is using the same type of explosive, based on the odor I detected right before it went off."

Oh…no…this happened because of her. The bomb was in her car. It was another hit on her life. A feeling of anguish washed over her, but it wasn't because she was worried about her own personal safety. She was worried about his. Her worst nightmare had just become a reality. Someone she cared for a great deal –yes, she did care for him she realized- was put in great danger because of her job. He almost forfeit his life tonight, only because he happened to be spending his time with her. The last thing she wanted to do was to put him in peril. Tonight she felt on the brink of accepting that what he told her about being married was true. How could she let him go now? But she knew she would have to, to keep him safe.

Not only that, a man died today because of her. She hadn't even known there was a security detail assigned to her. What about the man's family? Tokio was starting to feel sick. She pushed back the nauseous feeling by taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, trying to relax, as if she could with all that had happened over the last 30 hours. She could almost feel a case of emotional overload creeping up to grab her.

"I am so sorry, Saitoh-san, to have dragged you into all of this. I didn't mean to. I didn't think they would find out about me so soon," she told him, her voice unsteady and sorrowful, not thinking about what she had just revealed. She mumbled…"I don't see how I can see you again. I have come to care for you, but I can't allow you to endanger your life because of me. Your boys need you. They can't afford to lose their father, too, only because of the company you are keeping."

She remembered the last words of Wantanabe's call. Tokio was interfering in his life. He was going to see to her safety, farming his boys out to a relative tonight. She couldn't allow that to happen. There had to be somewhere he could take her that was safe.

She closed her eyes and focused before she spoke again. "You didn't tell me that I had a security detail assigned to me. When did that happen?" A man was dead because of her, it was all she could do to keep her voice neutral, void of emotion.

Right now all she really wanted to do was to pass out again. She didn't want to be tormented by the fact that someone died for her tonight, or by the reality that she would have to let go of this man who now sat beside her. She relished being close to him, but sometimes things just needed to be done, like giving him up for his own safety. Filled with deep regret that she would let him go for his own good, she knew it would be the great tragedy of her life.

**Saitoh**

"_I am so sorry, Saitoh-san, to have dragged you into all of this. I didn't mean to. I didn't think they would find out about me so soon... I don't see how I can see you again. I have come to care for you, but I can't allow you to endanger your life because of me. Your boys need you. They can't afford to lose their father, too, only because of the company you are keeping..."  
_  
(Dragged me into this?)

For an instant a mental image of this slender woman dragging him by the ankle into danger popped into his slightly concussed mind. It was a ridiculous image, but not nearly as ridiculous as her false notion that her presence in his life had turned into some unpleasant, occupational hazard that she would need to avoid for his sake.

"It would appear that I'm not the only individual in this car who is suffering from a head injury…" he said sarcastically, in no mood to have her place the blame for what happened on her slender, injured shoulders, "What do you think I do for a living, Tokio? Crochet traffic citations whilst sipping tea? I can take care of myself."

He wanted to say that he could also take care of her, but the fact she'd just barely avoided being incinerated in a Honda and was injured and in pain, didn't exactly place his protective skills in the best possible light.

He snorted and then swore as brake lights lit up in front of him due an imbecilic pillock whose driver's license should be revoked for trying to change lanes without checking their blind spot. He also had to brake, but not as badly because he'd been actually paying attention to the road (what a novel concept) and instinctively put a hand out to steady the woman who had suddenly turned into a houseguest. True, in an actual accident, the gesture would be pointless, but it was habit, something he did with his kids and he wasn't about to stop now.

In the few seconds he had before traffic started up again, Saitoh turned and looked at the attorney sitting in the passenger side of his sedan. Clearly in shock, she was struggling to remain conscious. She took a deep breath and then swallowed hard, slender throat constricting spasmodically as if forcing something unpleasant down her throat. Saitoh wondered if she was going to throw up. This was a normal reaction to physical and mental trauma.

_"You didn't tell me that I had a security detail assigned to me. When did that happen?" _He frowned, not liking the dead, emotionless sound of her voice at all. Eyes closed, head lolling to the side, she seemed like a cast aside marionette, whose strings had been severed.

"As soon as it became evident that you were a magnet for trouble," Saitoh said shortly as he shifted his foot from the brake to the gas and the sedan began to move again, easing out of the evening gridlock the further they moved away from the downtown area. "Which means that you should have had a detail set up for you BEFORE you set foot in New Meiji." This was standard operating procedure for any DOJ employee who was working on high risk cases.

This had been bothering him since he'd read up on her case history earlier in the afternoon. The woman had put away enough criminals to have an entire jail block pining for her demise, so why in the hell hadn't her brother, why hadn't **she **insisted on better security when she took over Fujita's old job?

It was high time to find out.

"Speaking of trouble," He glanced over at the woman again, his acerbic countenance becoming very serious, "At what point in our mutual disclosure and discovery were you planning on telling me that you had a hit out on you, or that such a thing was apparently to be expected?"

As distasteful and difficult as it had been, he'd done his duty and presented all his material liabilities for this woman's consideration and felt that equal candor on her part was in order. "I want to know what you're, NO. What **we're **up against so that what nearly occurred tonight in the parking garage never happens again."

The memory of her lying on the garage floor threatened to sideswipe him. (Idiot...now's not the time to hash things over that have already happened.) Saitoh slammed the mental image down, casting it into a dark place in the back of his mind where the loss of another was still festering after three years. He'd deal with the unpleasant aftermath later and ALONE.

He turned on his signal and waited until it was safe to change lanes and for Takagi Tokio to start talking.

**Tokio**

"I have no doubt that as an officer of the law, Goro," …wait no… "I mean Captain Saitoh, that you are often in danger. That is precisely why you don't need anyone else's life threatening baggage hanging onto your coat tails. It will only magnify what you are already dealing with on the streets of New Meiji." She wasn't a moron; she knew his life wasn't hazard free, but he sure didn't need or deserve the extras that she would bring with her, if he kept hanging around her.

She couldn't help but notice that he had reached towards her when he braked quickly. She figured it was an instinctive reaction to protect the person who in years past must have occupied the seat where she now sat. Did Yaso know how much this man loved her?

Tokio snorted at his next statement. Hah. The man was beginning to sound like someone else she knew. "What do you mean, since I became a magnet for trouble? Have you been talking to my brother?" She tried to sound indignant, but she doubted she did. It was really hard for her to focus. He must be right about the head injury. She probably had a mild concussion.

_"Speaking of trouble…At what point in our mutual disclosure and discovery were you planning on telling me that you had a hit out on you, or that such a thing was apparently to be expected?"_

Oh, did he sound serious, or what? She'd heard that tone of voice from him before hadn't she? Was it when he'd been drinking? In her current state of mind it was too long ago to remember. Well, if he expected her to be perfect, he'd better prepare himself for disappointment, because she was far from it. She was beginning to feel some pressure behind her eyes. Not the best time for a headache to pop up.

"Truthfully, Officer, I had no idea there was a hit put on me."

Her slip of the lips, caused by her lapse in thought was now biting her. She was here undercover, only Mori, her brother, was supposed to know. Well, it looked like all the wrong people already knew, and since that was the case, this man who had saved her life twice in two days, really did deserve an explanation.

Tokio sighed, figuring the beginning was the best place to start. "You know my brother and what he does. If I remember correctly, the two of you have worked together in the past." Okay, that was step one.

"My brother has known for a while that there are…let's just say…traitorous elements in the New Meiji Branch of the DOJ. It is important to him, and to the country, that they be exposed. He needed someone to come here to find out who they are, and if they have connections that reach beyond the normal government hierarchy." She was sure that he would know that she was talking about the syndicates. She shouldn't have to spell everything out for him; he was a detective, wasn't he?

"The idea was to send someone to New Meiji who was low key, not in any position of importance, so there would be little or no attention paid to them." Her head was hurting. She really didn't want to have this particular conversation with him right now. She was almost too tired to think.

"To have put a security detail on me BEFORE I even arrived in New Meiji would have been akin to wrapping me it the flag of Japan, and saying 'look at her…here she is…'"

"I thought I would have time to do my job before I was discovered and had to worry about any serious personal safety issues, but as you can see, I was very wrong about that. It was a serious miscalculation on my part." She paused before continuing with her story. There was something that needed to be said that hadn't been.

Her voice softened. "Thank you for saving me. Both times. I will forever be in your debt because of it."

She looked out the window of the car, her tone taking on a serious edge again. "I got enough flack over what I am going to tell you from my brother, so I don't need any from you tonight, especially with the way I feel right now." Hopefully, she could keep herself from throwing up in his car. She hated to be harsh with the man, but he needed to understand why she was the one sent here on this mission.

"Mori needed someone he could trust. He didn't want me to come, but I convinced him to send me. Deep down, he knew that there was only one person, who he could trust completely, to do the job for him. There was only one person, who could never be turned against him. That person was me."

There, satisfied, now, Officer, she said to herself. She was starting to feel bitchy, almost like it was the wrong time of the month and she hadn't taken her meds. Guess that is what happens when someone tries to kill you too many times in two days, she mused.

An instant later she was hit with the last words he'd spoken to her,

_"I want to know what you're, NO. What __**we're**__ up against so that what nearly occurred tonight in the parking garage never happens again."  
_  
As tears welled in her eyes, she put a hand to her forehead, trying to massage away her headache, feeling horrible that she had snapped at this man, who clearly wanted…against *her* better judgment…to link his life to hers. He deserved her gratitude, not a backlash of female hormones.

"Hajime," she whispered, as she reached over and gently covered the hand he had on the gearshift with hers, giving it a little squeeze, "I'm sorry."

**Saitoh**

Saitoh frowned when she called him Goro, and then corrected herself. The word was familiar. Why?

He thought for a moment and then recalled it was a name, his name, (one of many) that he'd gone by many, many years before. Tokio was starting to remember him as he once had been, just as his memories of her and of their life together were rising up from the depths of his subconscious mind, mixing and merging with their interactions from the present. It was strange, having shared memories that spanned decades with a woman who was in this life, still a mystery.

His frowned intensified as the mystery that was Takagi Tokio deepened as she tersely provided him with the explanation that he'd demanded. She was a spy of all things, mole for her brother, sent to identify and expose those responsible for the rampant corruption that was consuming the DOJ from the inside out. In theory, he was all for such endeavors. In practice however, he feared that this young woman had volunteered for and been assigned to nothing short of a suicide mission.

She looked out the window, the freeway lights running across her soot smudged face and debris laden hair and for a moment, he was strongly reminded of a time when there were no freeways and the woman had been looking out of the window of an Aizu castle under siege. Her bloodied face had been illuminated by moonlight then rather than the red and yellow brakes and oncoming white headlights reflecting against a passenger side window, but Tokio's expression was the same now as it has been over two hundred years ago, a complex mixture of strength, resignation and sorrow.

_"I thought I would have time to do my job before I was discovered…"_

(She knows what she's up against….and has accepted it) he realized as the anger and frustration over the near miss with the car bomb was accented with sharp worry for her wellbeing and a strong dose of soldierly admiration that she was still moving forward, despite the damning odds.

_"Mori needed someone he could trust. He didn't want me to come, but I convinced him to send me Deep down, he knew that there was only one person, who he could trust completely, to do the job for him. There was only one person, who could never be turned against him. That person was me."_

Eyes fixed on the road; he didn't say a word as she continued her explanation. What was there to say? Would he argue against her doing her duty? No. Persuade her to retreat to the safety of Yokohama? Absolutely not. She had made the same vows he did when she'd joined the Department of Justice and was equally honor bound to ensure that the Japan that they passed on to their children was better than the one they had inherited.

(There will be no children in her life... if she tries to do this alone)

This was a damn shame, Saitoh decided as he drove down the freeway. The Tokio of memory had been a loving, exemplary mother and had reared, more often alone than not, three boys who had become honorable men, an accomplishment no matter what era you were in. Many things would cease if this woman was killed in the line of duty. Her life would end and so would any chance of his family being made whole once again. He thought of his children growing into manhood without a loving mother to guide them to goodness, of a still missing son who would remain forever lost. And while Saitoh knew he could survive and endure a solitary life, that didn't mean he was looking forward to it.

No. She was just going to have to stay alive and that's all there was to it.

_"Hajime"_

Saitoh looked over at her, his expression no longer angry and frustrated, but something else entirely as he contemplated what life would be like without this woman by his side.

Tokio reached over and covered his large hand with her little one.

_"I'm sorry…"_

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Tokio," he said, his voice no longer hard and cutting.

Her hand was cold and clammy, clear indicators that she was still in shock. The color of her face suggested that she was nauseous and the hint of tears in her still too dilated eyes whispered of pain.

"I'm going to tilt your seat back a little," he said after a moment, slowly sliding his hand out from underneath hers. Saitoh adjusted the dials on the sedan's central control panel so that the passenger seat leaned back several degrees. He then reached back with one arm and blindly felt around and found the wool coat he'd left folded in the back seat when he'd arrived at work this morning.

"Thank you for entrusting me with this information," Saitoh covered the attorney's upper body with his coat. "Your plan to assist your brother explains many things and has merit," he conceded as he gingerly tucked the warm navy wool garment around her injured shoulder, "unfortunately it will not succeed unless you address two critical factors."

Saitoh clicked on the right signal light, checked his blind spot and then switched lanes. His exit was coming up soon.

"While you are formidable in the arena of law and have proven yourself capable of doing great damage to the syndicates and those who pander to them in a courtroom, you are not a field operative and have not received the type of training and experience that is required for an assignment of this nature."

Saitoh continued, lest she try and interrupt him. "What you are trying to accomplish would be like me choosing to try my hand out at being a prosecutor at a complex, high stake trial. While I have a thorough knowledge of police procedure, due process and the correct way to collect and present evidence, I would still have my ass handed to me in less than five minutes, unless I had the assistance and support of an entire team."

"Whether you desire my company or not, you already have my promise; imperfect as it may be, that I will do all that I can to keep you safe." He changed lanes again, merging carefully between two semi's as the exit number that would lead him home came into view. "Contrary to popular belief, there are honorable men and women in the DOJ, individuals that you and your brother can rely upon to help make things right. They want to help you, Tokio and will stand with you, no matter the outcome. If you want to survive past springtime, I highly suggest you consider taking them up on their offer."

He thought of the officer who'd died this evening while on volunteer security detail, of Karen's offer to upgrade Tokio's home security systems and of Minato's willingness (his moronic prank not withstanding) to stay late and wade through mountains of paperwork so that armor and weaponry could be issued on such short notice.

"Unlike the first factor, which you can easily remedy, the second factor is not something you can, or should try and change, but is still a liability that you will have to be aware of."

The dark sedan turned onto the off-ramp towards a quiet neighborhood east of downtown New Meiji.

"You see, when you send someone extraordinary into a situation, no matter how discreetly to you try and do it, people are bound to take notice." He certainly had.

She'd blown her cover the second she signed her transfer papers, which thanks to a conniving secretary were now in the hands of the syndicates she was tasked with taking down.

**Tokio**

His reaction to her apology spoke louder than words. Trying to make her comfortable, he reclined her seat and carefully tucked a warm coat around her now slightly shivering shoulders before responding to everything that she revealed to him about why she was in New Meiji. His thoughtful actions had her on the verge of tears again, the events of the day and yesterday still threatening to completely overwhelm her fragile state of mind.

Showing his consideration for her, he told her where her plan had merit, identified the inherent weaknesses, but offered a practical solution. He let her know that she couldn't do this alone, explaining that even though she had the brains and the drive, she did not have the physical skills to keep herself safe, at least not yet, not with such a massive undertaking. That was true. It was quite apparent that she couldn't keep herself safe. Tokio certainly did discover over the past two days that she was very lacking in self-defense skills, even though she had been trained to use a firearm. There was far more to personal safety than just that.

At the moment the attorney didn't feel worthy of his praise. She didn't feel very formidable, she felt like a failure. Yes, she had a great conviction record, which made sure that the jails were filled to capacity, but Tokio believed that a person needed to put their past achievements behind them and focus on the present and the future, both of which looked to her as if they were going to hell, at least where her carefully laid plans were concerned.

Saitoh drew her attention to the second critical issue, explaining that due to who she was, combined with her personal history, there was absolutely no way she could have carried out a discreet plan. The Captain encouraged her to focus on a new course of action to reach her goal. He gave her hope, telling her that there were like-minded, trustworthy individuals in the DOJ, who would be willing to assist her. She needed to assemble a team of people whose varying skills would complement each other; she needed to find people with strengths to compensate and augment what her talents were. As far as she was concerned, he took her by the hand and led her down a path that would end in success. She had so many things for which to thank him, saving her life and a new plan of action, among them.

Glancing out the passenger-side window, Tokio was aware that the car was no longer on the freeway and was now winding its way through what looked like residential neighborhoods. She briefly wondered where they were going.

Her voice was weak as she spoke, "There are no words sufficient to tell you how much I appreciate your assistance and advice. Would you please help me identify people in the DOJ who are trustworthy and would be willing to help me?"

He'd referred to her as someone 'extraordinary'. She blinked away another round of moisture that was dripping from her eyes, feeling very undeserving. How Captain Saitoh felt about her was beginning to sink in. The things he'd said to her, said about her, what he'd done for her, they were all painting a picture of a man who cared a great deal for her. No, it was more than that. Somehow she knew that he did not give others the latitude and consideration that he gave to her.

A person only did those sorts of things to someone they…She didn't finish her thought, quickly filling with regret brought by the meaning of another thing he'd said to her.

_"Whether you desire my company or not…"  
_  
Even in her less than lucid state, his comment hit her like a pallet of bricks. He must have been receiving mixed signals from her to say something like that. Whether she desired his company? At this point she *craved* his company. Earlier today she told him she wanted to walk down a path of discovery with him, that she felt close to him, cared for him. She even kissed him three times tonight, if she hadn't been hallucinating. But just a short time ago she also told him that she could no longer see him, because she was afraid for his safety, if he stayed around her.

His safety? 'How ridiculous was that?' she asked herself. What had she been thinking? It was clearly obvious that she *hadn't* been thinking at all. He was the one who saved her twice in two days. He was *still* declaring he would keep her safe even if she didn't want his company. She would be dead if not for him. She realized now how foolish she had been to put Captain Saitoh in the same category as the other men who she'd been acquainted with, who really couldn't protect themselves, and who would be in danger due to associating with her.

Her head was almost pounding now, but she had to say something to correct her monumental lapse in judgment. In her mind this one was far worse than any miscalculations made in the course of planning the undercover job for her brother.

"Please forgive me. It's been a stressful couple of days for me. I've been confused about a lot of things. I'm having a hard time processing what has happened to me in such a short time. But there is one thing that I am *very* sure about, and that is that I *do* desire your company, very much. I was so foolish to think that I needed to give you up, because of my job, to keep you safe, when it was you who protected me."

It was too much. She felt so close to breaking down. She had to struggle to keep her composure. She regretted being so weak of spirit.

If she was correct, the car turned off the street and into a driveway before stopping. "Where are we?" she asked the man who had been her protector the last two days, and who now seemed to be her caretaker.

**Saitoh**

Saitoh sighed when the attorney tried to apologize.

"Yare, yare…there's no need to apologize for wanting to keep someone safe," He said in a low, quiet voice that despite being raspy with weariness was almost soothing.

"So quit fussing." "He reached over and took her hand that was peeking out from under his wool coat. Fingers lacing with hers, he added, "You're alive. I'm not going anywhere. The rest we'll figure out together."

The sedan turned onto a winding tree lined street. Still winter, the branches were bare, nearly skeletal looking. As he drove slowly (staying 1.5 kilometers per hour below the posted speed limit) he kept glancing over at the shaken woman, wishing that she'd been spared the pain and trauma of this evening. All things considered, she was holding up better than expected, but sooner or later, the cumulative weight and worry of the past few days would catch up with her and her façade, which was already cracking under the strain of nearly being blown up and burned to death, would shatter.

(I will be there to help you put the pieces back together) He wordlessly promised, giving the woman's clammy hand a reassuring squeeze. During the darkest time in his life, Okita had once extended the same offer to him and it was high time he pay that kindness forward.

(I wish you were here, you optimistic little shit…) he thought about his friend, regret flaring right along with the horrible ache in his head. He too, was feeling the stress. His throat was parched, tongue dry. He thirsted, not for water, but something far stronger and infinitely more destructive. He swallowed, rubbing his tongue on the roof of his mouth, almost able to tasting the slightly, smoky taste of aged whiskey, or the smooth crispness of sake. Gods, he was thirsty.

He needed a drink. Just one.

Just

A

Small

Sip...

(Moron…) Saitoh bit down hard, nearly bloodying the inside of his cheek. (You lack the mastery to take a sip of anything, save water). He ignored the voice in the back of his mind that whispered that this time it would be different, that he was strong enough and that his formidable will was up to the challenge of keeping his drinking in moderation. (I hate liars) He hated that he had the capacity to be one, in this one singular, shameful exception to his rule of self.

Tokio shifted her hand beneath his, so that her palm and his were touching, their long fingers twining. It was a simple, yet shockingly intimate, reassuring gesture. He exhaled slowly. He could detect her pulse. It was strong. Steady. He took a breath. Held it. Let it go…along with the desire to lose himself in liquor. The bone searching thirst abated….became almost bearable.

Did she know what she was doing? That she was already making good on her offer to help him maintain his sobriety?

As they drove, the moon slow slid up and over the rolling hills that surrounded the east side of New Meiji. Full, bright, as it waxed upward the dark city started to transform, as if lightly painted over with a quicksilver rinse.

Saying nothing (because nothing needed to be said) they drove in silence, the silvery moonlight giving them the appearance of a couple out for an evening drive, rather than two injured aching survivors of a nearly lethal car bombing.

**SEVERAL MINUTES LATER**

_"Where are we?"_

No longer able to hold the attorney's hand (the notion that he'd do such a thing with a lawyer was still mind boggling) Saitoh shifted the car into neutral and hit the brakes. He had to deactivate his home security system.

Saitoh pulled out his mobile phone from his side pocket, placed his thumb on the DNA reader [SUBMIT BIOCREDENTIALS] and waited for the "beep" that indicated it had registered his DNA [BIOCREDENTIALS ACCEPTED] and then slid his thumb over the LCD screen and opened a security application that Watanabe had written.

[ENTER AUTHENTICATION CODE]

Typing quickly, he entered a two factor authentication sequence and then submitted the code. His phone beeped again [CODE ACCEPTED] and the garage door began to open.

"Home," he said wearily as he leaned against the steering wheel, "You'll be safe here until we can secure your own residence, or make other acceptable arrangements." His nose had started bleeding again and the back of his head was throbbing as if he was suffering from one hell of a hangover. He sniffed and waited for the door to slide fully open.

This was, perhaps a bit of an understatement. Watanabe had built this security system on a dare and Saitoh had yet to find a residential alarm system that was its equal.

Once the door was open; Saitoh drove the sedan into the garage, triggering motion sensitive SED lights overhead to flicker on and initiated the lock down sequence. The garage door began to close.

Bathed in bright, sterile SED light, Saitoh was able to better see how the attorney was truly faring. Alarmed at how pale she was, he reached over and pressed his fingers against the side of her neck for several seconds as he calculated her pulse rate and body temperature. "You've not warmed up at all," he muttered. She was cold, despite being wrapped in his coat, and her normally soft, warm skin was slick and icy with shock induced perspiration. She was in danger of passing out again, a state that he wanted to avoid if at all possible.

He frowned and brushed her hair back behind her ear, then palmed her cheek with a hand that felt feverishly hot in comparison. "If I thought there was a hospital that I could safely take you to, I would," he said gruffly, concerned that she was trembling for the second time that evening. While the soft shudders moving through her body earlier in the evening had been, by her own admission, mostly due to being held close by a police officer, these tremors were of the decidedly unpleasant, shock induced variety and were her body's last ditch attempt to regulate itself.

"But until we obtain more information about who was responsible for the bombing, its best that your current whereabouts remain on a strict need to know basis."

Saitoh unlocked the car and tried to step out of the vehicle, wincing as his muscles (no longer enjoying a surplus of energy transforming adrenaline) cramped violently, the bones in his arms and legs feeling as if they'd been shattered by the force of the concussion blast. His vision blurred for a moment and he had to blink a couple of times before he could see properly. Rather than give into the very understandable temptation to collapse into a mal-tempered heap, he stiffly walked around to the passenger side of the car. Tokio's slender body had absorbed more of the impact than his and he knew that despite her stoic attempts at being silent, the grey eyed woman sitting slumped over in his sedan had to be in agony.

"Here," he reached down for her, "let me help you inside."


	3. Chapter 3 Memories

**Tokio**

As much as she was hurting, her mind couldn't help but register the little bit of advice he gave her.

_"Quit fussing."_

It was the second time today he'd said it to her. Why did it sound *so* familiar? Coming from him it actually seemed endearing, if she dared to put that word and Captain Saitoh in the same thought. Some might think he was giving her an order, like she was one of his troops. She didn't, but she would think about what it meant later. Right now her head hurt too much to consider anything too deeply.

_"I'm not going anywhere. The rest we'll figure out together." _

His soothing words and the familiar touch of his hand on one of hers were exactly what her damaged emotions needed. He always seemed to know what to do to keep her on an even keel. She had needed to hear from his lips that he would stay with her and help her figure out all of this. Gratefully, she took his hand, not content until she faced her palm to touch his as their fingers entwined. The moonlight shining through the window, bathing the scene in a surreal light, almost gave Tokio the illusion of peace. But the physical and emotional realities that surrounded the occupants of the car were nothing less than broiling.

He told her that they were *home*. Why did that cause such an ache in her heart? Was it because of what they'd once shared? Again, she was in no shape to consider much of anything except how bad she felt. One part of her body hadn't been favored over another…everything seemed to hurt equally.

There was a hand on her neck, then on her cheek. He was talking again, something about hospitals, and a need to know basis, none of which registered until he said,

_"Let me help you inside."_

In a daze she looked at the open door, shuddering. The last time a car door opened so she could get out, she almost died. She looked up at Saitoh…half expecting him to grab her damaged shoulder and yank her out of the car. Reflexively, she shrunk away from him, until she remembered that the quick way he removed her from her car actually saved her life. Sighing, she tried to keep things straight in her mind. She felt so cold.

Tokio really didn't want to move. Why didn't Saitoh just let her stay in the car and rest? Could she even get out? She shifted in the seat, gingerly moving her legs, positioning them in the door opening, but remaining seated. If she was tired and achy, how was he feeling? If she suffered injuries, he must have, also. He was the one who carried her and drove her home, and now he was offering to help her get out. Why did this make her want to cry?

Her eyes made a silent plea before she extended her hands toward him like a child reaching for their parent. Bending down stiffly, Saitoh by passed her outstretched arms, and slipped his hands around her slim waist, lifting her up from the seat and to him. Pulling her out by her hands might have caused more injury to her shoulder, and that was something he refused to risk. Her slim arms slipped around his neck in response, hanging onto him, letting him pull her completely out of the car and into a standing position. Once she was standing she leaned heavily against him, neither of them letting go of the other. She felt so tired and unsteady on her feet.

He whispered to her that it was time to move, so she dropped her arms to her side after using one hand to brush away a small trail of blood that had accumulated under his nose, letting him support her around the waist, as they shuffled towards a door in the garage. Saitoh opened it and they stepped inside the house. Having to stand and walk, accentuated the nauseous feeling that Tokio suppressed during the ride to Saitoh's house. It was all she could do to verbalize what she needed,

"Bathroom... stomach…"

Understanding what she needed, he scooped her up in his arms, quickly heading down the hall. He was really too tired tonight to clean up a mess on the floor. He used his toe to open a door, and flipped on the light, setting her feet on the floor in front of the commode.

Once back on her feet Tokio kept a grip on his clothing, steadying herself so she could sink to the floor on her knees. He flipped the seat up for her, and she leaned over, emptying the contents of her churning stomach until there was nothing left but dry heaves. A large warm hand had held her forehead, throughout, giving her some much needed support.

Oh, how she hated the taste in her mouth after purging. The water ran for a number of seconds before being turned off. A glass appeared at her lips. Taking a sip, she swished out her mouth and spit into the bowl. After several repetitions her mouth felt clean, and she even dared to swallow the last sip, hoping that it would stay down where it belonged. She was aware of the lid closing and the toilet flushing, as she now slumped backward leaning on the bathtub for support.

Thankfully, her stomach felt much better. She heard the water running again, briefly. This time a warm wash cloth gently caressed her face, taking away the soot, debris, and the smudge of blood from his nose that clung to her skin. She really needed a shower, but she knew there was no way she could stand long enough to take one.

**Saitoh**

The wash cloth was getting cold. Saitoh set it down on the bathroom counter.

Tokio was leaning, as if boneless, against the bathtub, her wan features looking ghastly beneath the florescent bathroom light. There was debris in her hair; he could smell blood on her, not a lot, but enough that he needed to find the source and determine the severity.

She still stank of smoke and fire, and aside from her face, which was somewhat clean, was dirty, her pretty blouse stained with soot, grime and what appeared be some motor oil from the parking garage. She needed a shower, but was in no position to safely bathe alone. She could barely sit upright and was still deeply in shock, based on her shallow breathing and dazed, semi-lucid expression.

For an instant he weighed the merits of helping her undress and get into shower, an idea that was practical on many levels, but would force a measure of physical intimacy that he wasn't ready for and that she certainly would be uncomfortable with. The thought was immediately dismissed and a backup plan came into play instead.

**A COUPLE OF MINUTES LATER**

Saitoh shut the door to his bedroom and stripped off his uniform, tossing the dirty clothing into the clothes hamper. His trousers could be washed, but his shirt was in bad shape.

Hell, he was in bad shape.

Feeling as if he'd been hit by a city transport bus, Saitoh stumbled into the master bathroom and turned on the hot water in the sink, till the mirror above the counter fogged up with steam. A groan was wrenched from him as he unfastened his armor. Half healed ribs, bound by dermal bands that he pulled off with unsteady hands ached sharply, making it difficult to breathe while his injured thigh was throbbing. Blood had seeped through the banding on his leg. His stitches had been ripped open somehow. He tightened the bandage, but didn't bother with redressing the wound. It would have to wait.

He grabbed a hand towel and quickly washed his face and arms, picking out bits of shrapnel like debris that had been embedded in his skin from the explosion. A jagged piece of what appeared to be a rear brake light had lodged in the muscle of his upper right arm. He pulled it out watching as blood welled up in the puncture wound. Making a mental note to double check when he'd received his last tetanus booster, he quickly cleaned the wound, slapped a bandage on it and moved on.

Once the worst of the wounds had been attended to and he was mostly clean, he went to his closet and slipped on a black t-shirt and put on some sweatpants that he used for working out. Dressed, he peered into the decidedly Spartan closet where only one half had any clothing. He grabbed another black t-shirt and an old pair of pajama bottoms. They were too large, and would drown the slender woman, but it beat the hell out of her going naked.

**IN THE LIVING ROOM**

Saitoh set down the bowl of hot water along with the towels he'd brought from the bathroom next to the clothing from the bedroom and his first aid kit that he kept in the closet. All police officers were given extensive emergency medical training as a precautionary measure due to the severe injuries that they often encountered in their line of work and so that they could provide backup to the already overtaxed EMT and Paramedics teams.

Tokio was curled up on the couch, eyes closed, her long hair spilling out over the side arm like an inky river. She was still dangerously pale, but her skin thankfully no longer had a sickly, greenish cast to it.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Saitoh sat down beside the stunned attorney and helped her sit up, taking care not to put any stress on her shoulder. She'd recoiled from him in the car, an instinctive reaction he supposed from a semi-conscious victim who was in shock, but one that he wasn't happy with. He didn't want her to be afraid of him on any level.

"I'm going to help you take your armor off and get a better look at your shoulder," he said quietly. The woman nodded slightly and tried to help him unbutton her blouse. The back of it was shredded, torn by shrapnel. "Thank the Gods, that you were wearing a jacket," Saitoh muttered as he tossed the ruined blouse on the coffee table and began examining the poly-kevlar jacket for damage. There was imbedded debris all over the back of it, some deeply enough that he was going to have to send the armor in for repairs less than four hours after she'd donned it for the first time.

She took a shuddering breath as he unfastened her armor and carefully pulled it off of her, revealing the now familiar sports bra beneath. Saitoh pressed his hands along the line of her ribcage, asking if there was any sharp pain as he checked for broken ribs. She blushed and stiffened beneath him, when his hands brushed up against her bra covered breasts. This was also an understandable response, but what he was doing was necessary and not something to apologize for. He repeated the motion on her back, sliding his fingers over the smooth expanse of her spine and lower torso, as he tried to detect any underlying injuries to bones, ligaments and the deeper muscle groups.

Once he had finished with the cursory exam, he took the hot water and towels and gently washed away the worst of the dirt, blood and debris from her skin. She seemed to like this better, being cleaned up, the coiled muscles in her body relaxing a little under his ministrations. "When you're feeling better, you can take a long, hot bath," he said as he carefully removed bits of glass and heat twisted plastic from her skin. Like him, she also had shrapnel imbedded in the back of her arms, where the vest had not covered her. He suspected her legs would be equally impacted. By the time he was done, the basin water was bloody and fine tremors were running through her frame, the precursors he suspected, of another wave of shock.

Her hair was a mess and while his first aid kit was stocked well enough to handle the first aid needs of a small invading army, he didn't have a hair brush in the house, only a few combs. They were hopelessly outgunned in this battle and so he focused only on removing the worst of the debris and leaving the rest for later. He smoothed her hair back, tucking several soft strands behind her ears before he turned his attention to getting her shoulder bandaged.

Scowling, Saitoh examined her swollen shoulder. Already bruising, it looked very painful. Offering up a silent apology, he ran his fingertips over the already florid coloring, resigned to the knowledge that he'd hurt her when yanking her out of the car. Saitoh activated a cold dermal band, feeling the fibers become cool beneath his hands, then cold. "This will help ease the pain," he whispered as he carefully bandaged her shoulder, knowing that the icy fabric would reduce swelling. When she was properly bandaged and he'd helped her slip into his t-shirt, he leaned over and kissed her forehead, hoping that the unspoken endearment would also help make things a little better.

Finally, he focused his attention on her legs, the only portion of her body where he could still smell blood coming from her.

"Can you stand?"

Tokio tried but her legs buckled, prompting him to catch her around her waist and ease her down onto her back on the couch. He took off her remaining shoe (there had been no time to remove it earlier) and stockings, half noticing that she had delicate ankles. He hesitated for a moment, then reached up and carefully unbuttoned her trousers, then carefully slid them down, past the curve of her hips. She tried to help, but her hands were shaking.

Saitoh ran his hands down the length of her long legs. She was cold, her skin clammy. "No broken bones, but your right knee is pretty banged up," he said clinically, trying to put her at ease as he activated another cold dermal band and wrapped up her knee. He could tell that she was mortified to be so exposed. Trying to help, he tugged his shirt down so that it covered the white cotton underwear she was wearing.

"You have shrapnel in your legs," Saitoh warned as he turned her to her side, and then helped her roll onto her stomach. The blast had lodged several pieces of plastic and metal into her skin. He pulled out the debris with his fingers, then washed and disinfected the area and bandaged it. The last fragment was lodged in her hip, right below where her armor had been. Sliding a finger beneath the underwear band, he slid the fabric down a little, exposing the curve of her hip bone to his concerned gaze. She stiffened, the muscles in her back and bottom tightening as he pulled out a shard of embedded glass.

"Be still," he instructed quietly, placing a warm hand on the small of her back. She shivered, and he swore he caught a stifled sob coming from her hidden face. "I'm almost done," he rubbed her back slightly, trying to urge her to breathe slowly and to relax her muscles as he washed and cleaned the last of her wounds.

Getting her into his pajama bottoms was a bit of a challenge. Helping her into a sitting position, he slid the soft, worn bottoms up as high as high as they could go. "Put your arms around my neck," he requested. She did so. Carefully he lifted her up with one arm and then tugged the pajamas up around her hips. Rolling his eyes at his own awkwardness, he tried to be gentle, but had to concede that in the area of dressing or undressing a woman, he was sadly out of practice. He was about to set her back down on the couch when her arms tightened around his neck and with a soft, wordless cry, pressed her head up against the side of his neck and held onto him, her shuddering arms tightening like her life depending on staying up against him.

**Tokio**

**Part 1**

Although Tokio was conscious, she was only an observer to what was happening to her. It felt so wonderful to have her face clean, to have her stomach no longer in a rebellious mode, feeling settled for the most part.

The strong officer lifted her from the bathroom floor and carried her to another part of the house, settling her on a couch. He tried to explain that he needed to get some first aid supplies; that he would be back in a few minutes. But it didn't matter to the attorney; she would have none of it. She had a death grip on his shirt, not wanting him to leave her alone even for a few seconds. Saitoh had to pry Tokio's cold fingers from his clothing so he could leave to get what he needed. As soon as he was gone, she curled into a tight little ball, hoping he would be back soon.

When he finally returned, he set about checking her for injuries. She blushed and stiffened a bit as he removed her body armor and ran his hands over her skin, pressing lightly on her ribs, then checking her back and spine the same way. She knew he had to do this, and he'd seen her in her sports bra earlier, anyway, so any embarrassment on her part was stupid, she told herself. She could feel him picking out what must be small pieces shrapnel from the back of her arms. She hadn't even noticed them until he took them out.

He talked, as he worked, telling her exactly what he was doing, probably trying to keep her calm and distracted. The exact words he used didn't really register in her mind, but the soothing tone of his voice was doing wonders to settle her internal turmoil. The careful way he handled her touched her heart. She had the fleeting thought that if he really had been her husband, there was no one better to care for her. She wished that she could return the favor and tend to his injuries, but she was in no shape to do more than just think about it.

Saitoh must have known she wanted a shower, because he gave her a sponge bath. The warm water felt so good on the skin of her upper body, as did the cold therapy he eventually applied to her swelling, aching shoulder. She did her best to help him get her arms into the sleeves of an oversized black t-shirt, wishing that she had the strength to return his kiss to her forehead with one to his lips. The shirt smelled like the handsome officer, his scent adding another layer of comfort to her addled mind.

She tried to stand as he requested, but wound up collapsing in his arms before being stretched out on the couch. She knew she should be far beyond being worried about modesty in front of him, but it still made her uncomfortable to have her lower body almost completely exposed after he removed her slacks and stockings. He must have realized this because she felt a downward tug on the top she was wearing.

Rolling her onto her stomach, he continued his examination. She shivered involuntarily as his hands trailed along the skin of her legs, feeling for bits and pieces of metal and plastic. Tokio felt shards being removed here and there. It was a bit uncomfortable, but tolerable, until he reached her hip and slipped his hand under the waistband of her underwear. That one had to be a big one. She bit her lip, flinched, and let out a little groan. She knew she needed to stay still as he asked, but whatever he was pulling out felt like it was imbedded deeper than the others. Her response had been involuntary due to the pain.

He was only trying to do what he could to clean her up and treat her wounds, and if they weren't taken care of now, they would get infected, causing more problems than simple embarrassment. She was so thankful that she chose sensible cotton underwear; she would die, if she were wearing a thong in front of him. But hadn't her mind told her earlier that he'd already seen all there was to see of her?

She was glad to hear that he was almost done, she was so tired. She was aware of having her back rubbed and of more washing before she realized she was in an upright position again. She could feel soft fabric, first around her ankles, then sliding up her legs. It had to be well worn flannel, her favorite.

She heard him say, _"Put your arms around my neck."_She did. The warm fabric was gently tugged around her waist. She sniffed, trying to hold back tears. Yaso had been so lucky to be this man's wife. Tokio's heart ached for what the police officer had lost. She had a deep seated yearn to try to do what she could to easy any pain that he might feel, for whatever reason.

She noticed she longer seemed to smell quite so strongly of smoke and motor oil now that she was relatively clean and had fresh clothing. Her hair still smelled a little and felt gritty, but she would have to wait until she could shower or stand bent over at his kitchen sink before she could wash it. The tender memory of how, only minutes ago, he'd picked gunk out of her long black tresses before smoothing them down would stay with her for a long time. She really did like it when he touched her hair. She blushed a little when she remembered what he said about his memories of running his fingers through it.

She could tell he was about to put her down, so she tightened her hold, pressing her head against the side of his neck. If he thought he was going to get rid of her so easily, he was very mistaken. She needed physical contact with him and the comfort it would provide. She wouldn't let him leave her alone again. She was being clingy; she knew it; she didn't care; she needed it.

Saitoh's eyes travelled to the back of the couch, noticing the folded blanket draped there. It was a handy place to keep it, since his boys had a habit of conking out while watching vids, and he had a habit of covering them up when they did. Keeping hold of Tokio with one arm, he reached over with the other, picking up the well used covering and shaking it out. It was another awkward task to do with only one hand, but he managed to tuck the blanket around her before sitting himself down on the couch with her positioned on his lap as comfortably as he could.

He reached over to a remote sitting on an end table and cut the lights to the room, hoping the quiet and lack of bright light would somehow soothe this woman's damaged soul.

**Tokio**

**Part 2**

Ensconced in Saitoh's strong arms, Tokio's mind began to wander, almost going to war with itself. The prosecutor had literally begged her brother to send her into the viper's nest that was New Meiji. After only a week on the job she suffered two extremely violent attempts on her life, one at the Sunshine Café and the other in the DOJ parking garage less than two hours ago. If there had been a day or two in between these events, so she could process them and deal with them, Tokio was sure she could have coped. But that didn't happen. She didn't have the luxury of well-spaced traumas. It was too much for her to come to terms with all at the same time. She was now dangerously close to a complete emotional over load. She felt it creeping up on her on the way here tonight, her senses so close to heading over the brink that it terrified her.

She was trying so hard to get a grip on herself, but she just couldn't manage it. Too much had happened. Ever since Captain Saitoh brought her into his house, she'd been suffering from various degrees of tremors. She ached all over. It wasn't only her formerly dislocated shoulder. It was her lower legs, thighs, skinned knees, arms and the middle of her forehead where she'd conked the Captain on the nose. She should be drowning herself in a tub of ice water to quell the pain and swelling, but she felt too cold as it was.

Saitoh had changed her clothes in the most modest way possible, cleaned her, bandaged her -the best he could, and bundled her in a warm blanket, settling her on his lap. They now sat on the couch in the dark quiet of his home. She was cocooned against him as close as she could manage to get.

It was yesterday that she first laid eyes on the man in whose arms she was now safely nestled, her hands taking a vise like grip on his black t-shirt to make sure he didn't leave. During the shoot out in the diner, he had protected her, and in turn she'd shot a man who was aiming at him. It was during this shoot out that she realized he seemed familiar to her, that she felt she could trust him, that she felt safe when she was near him. At the time she thought it was idiotic to have those feelings about a stranger.

Just hours ago, when she'd gone to his office to return the small side arm he' d loaned her, he flabbergasted her by claiming that the two of them had been married in a past life. Tokio with her analytical lawyer's mind was skeptical to say the least, but after he'd related a story about his former partner, Okita, she was willing to give what he said some serious consideration. He seemed to be an honest, straightforward man. She'd heard several good things about him during her first week working at the New Meiji branch of the DOJ. Tonight he protected her once again, knowing from the sound when she tried to start her car, that something was wrong. He pulled her to safety with only moments to spare before her car exploded in a ball of fire.

She'd been surrounded by too much violence, death, and carnage. If surviving two assassination hits in a little over a day's time wasn't enough to send a person screaming for cover, try adding the death of a police officer who was your security detail that you never knew you had. Then add the fact that a very attractive man told you that you were his wife almost 200 years ago. The prosecutor was tempted to commit herself to the mental ward of the nearest hospital.

During the time spent with the Captain tonight in the armory and shooting range, strange images floated through Tokio's mind. She eventually accepted that these were most likely bits and pieces of memories from the past he said she shared with him. He was even able to help her understand some of what she had seen.

Now she was drifting in and out of consciousness, her emotions raw, and her body weary. Memories of events both past and present began crashing over her like the waves of a stormy sea on a sandy shore, slowly eroding away any threads of composure which remained.

Worst of all, tonight someone died because of her. That wasn't the only death you caused, her mind whispered to her. Yes, she was responsible for the death of another person, many years ago, someone who was very precious to them. That death was a result of her physical weakness, and the man she belonged to all those years ago never blamed her. But she blamed herself; she knew it was her fault. If she had been stronger, that precious life would never have been lost to them. Back then, she was weak, just like she was now. Her body hadn't been strong enough to see her through until the end.

No longer able to cope with the present, Tokio's mind slowly sank into the past, transporting her to another time and another place. It was just like tonight; she'd been in a state of physical and emotional pain. She was somewhere between true sleep and wakefulness, when she recalled being held like this before. Was it by this man, she thought to herself? His hair was longer then, and he wore a hakama and gi. He was thinner, more haggard looking, like life had slammed him down. She could see clearly now. She *knew*. She *just * knew. She had been held like this before…by this same man, by her husband, by Hajime.

Her cramps were so bad, she could hardly stand it. It seemed like as soon as one ended another started. Where was her husband? Was he home today? He should be. He would know what to do. She cried out for him…."Hajime, please come quickly."

The man who wore the hakama held her in his strong arms, warmly embracing her as she experienced the agony of all agonies. One from which she most likely never fully recovered, especially since it was coming back to her so clearly now. Along with the images from long ago, came the same tears she'd first shed over what happened back then.

Tokio started to shake, crying harder, holding onto him tighter, and it had nothing to do with the current events in New Meiji.

She hurt so intensely, she thought she was going to die. He had wrapped her in his arms, then, as he was doing now. Her memory of that day was so clear. It was her first clear, complete memory of a past shared with him. The unreal pain washed over her. She felt like a giant hand was reaching into her lower body and trying to pull out what was inside of her. That was the most apt description. Terror slammed her heart in response. She wasn't due for 5 or 6 months. Whatever was happening couldn't be good, not with as much pain as she was feeling. What had that mid-wife said? That it would be very painful at the end. But this was close to the middle.

Blood. She smelled blood. The Boshin War was over…but the smell of blood always reminded her of the time spent in Aizu Castle as a member of the inner guard, protecting Matsudaira's family. There seemed to be blood all over her.

Her body had not been merciful, forcing her to endure hours of physical torture before her ordeal was finished. The man, her husband, held her the whole time, wiping the sweat from her brow, rubbing her back and shoulders, trying to soothe her as best he could. But she had been inconsolable. All she could do was hang onto him and cry out in agony.

"I'm so sorry Hajime. I was so weak," she managed to sputter between sobs. "If only I could have been stronger, things might have been different. You did not deserve that." She gripped his t-shirt tighter pressing her face against his chest, tears continuing to flow, her shoulders shaking. What happened left her feeling so empty, so useless.

Rubbing her eyes, and sniffling, she spoke to him, again, her voice hesitant and uneven. "Hajime….that day in Tonami….do you remember….we lost …" She couldn't even bring herself to say the word. It hurt too much, even after almost 200 years her emotions were still raw. But it was her first complete, clear memory of a past life that he was so sure existed. To her it was proof positive that she had once been the wife of this wonderful, loyal, loving man. It was a memory that she had no desire to relive, ever, but it confirmed to her what Hajime already knew, that they really had been husband and wife.

On that day long ago there was a lot of blood…and pain…and anguish that their first born did not survive the rigors of life in Tonami. She'd been three to four months along. She was too thin. There was never enough to eat. Hajime had done his best to care for her, to care for them. But it wasn't enough, and the gods above decided to claim the child as their own.

At this moment it seemed ridiculous to call him Saitoh-san, ever again, not with her memories coming so clearly, not when she knew without out a doubt that **she was his wife**. From this day on when they were alone, he would always be Hajime to her. Now that she found him, now that she knew who he had been, she would never let him go. There would be hell to pay if anyone tried to take him from her again.

She was physically tired and emotionally drained. The burdens weighing on her in this present life seemed achingly heavy. Being almost blown to smithereens did that to a person. Knowing that there were still people who wanted her dead didn't help, either, it only added to her unsettled state of mind. But as on that very traumatic day they'd lost their first born, Hajime was there to hold her and comfort her, making her feel safe. Somehow she knew that as long as her life was linked with his, she had nothing to worry about, because together they would survive and move forward.

Body and mind totally spent, but with a measure of hope given by finally recognizing the truth, Tokio finally drifted off to sleep in Hajime's arms.

**Saitoh**

Snow was falling…

Saitoh ran silently through the forest, the heavy snowfall muffling the sound of his rapid passage beneath towering black pine and fragrant ice laden cedar trees. Nearly in a dead sprint, the rangy swordsman darted behind tree trunks as he moved closer to his intended targets.

It was cold. A deep freeze had settled into the desolate valley that he, and those of Aizu who had been spared what in hindsight had been a quick merciful death in honorable battle, had been exiled. The plummeting temperatures had ravaged a community already under siege from chronic malnutrition and elemental exposure. Eight people had died the previous night, mostly women and children. The elderly and sick had already succumbed when a wave of typhus swept through in the autumn.

A gust of wind blew through the exposed tree branches, sending blinding snow flurries swirling around Saitoh as he ran. His feet, heavily swathed in rags, were aching from exposure and his equally bandaged hands were going numb. He paid this discomfort no mind. Suffering had become the rule rather than the exception in life.

(There…) He spied the encampment and dropped silently into a crouch behind a snow covered boulder and began to creep forward, drawing his katana. There were five thieves, five soon to be corpses. These men, posing as government inspectors, had strong-armed critical funds from the struggling village while Saitoh and the other men healthy enough to hunt had been out searching for food. In the struggle, one of the few remaining elders had been struck down and his grandson had been shot trying to protect the old man. If he didn't get the money back, the entire village would starve to death within weeks.

Moving with the stealth that only a natural predator processes, Saitoh circled the camp. He attacked the group from their weakest angle, his hoarse battle cry ringing out in the silent, snow covered woods. In seconds three of the thieves were dead, split open from hip to shoulder, their rent and bleeding bodies steaming in the cold air. The other two were armed, but were not of the same caliber as the half-starved, amber eyed nightmare in their midst and they were executed, their screams for mercy ignored.

Saitoh left the bodies where they lay, after stripping them of anything useful and warm. He took the ill-gotten provisions, foodstuffs and the men's horses and led the beasts back towards the village. One horse was hobbling and Saitoh knew it would be slaughtered for food. His long empty stomach growled at the thought of having something in it. It had been three days since he'd had anything to eat and he was growing weak, a state of existence that he could not allow.

His concern was not for himself, it was for the woman he was returning to. If he fell ill and died, he would leave his mate vulnerable. (She's already in danger.) He conceded angrily. While she had been spared the ravages of disease, she was wasting away, her body far too thin. He'd given up what little extra rations that the village hunters had been allotted, claiming he'd already eaten in the hopes that the extra bit of rice and dried fish would be enough to spare his wife from a slow, painful death via starvation. (If it comes to that, I will end her life quickly and then take my own…) That was in his opinion, the only honorable recourse against failing to do his duty and provide for his family.

Saitoh caught sight of the wretched little village that they now called home. Suddenly homesick, he tried to superimpose the beautiful temples and trees of Kyoto over the barren landscape, but to no avail, the land they'd been forced to settle repelled their efforts at living. Game was scarce, the soil poor and capable of growing only rocks, it seemed. The only crops that seemed to be plentiful in this god-forsaken valley were those of hate and sorrow. Those yields were always plentiful.

Saitoh stumbled as he urged the horses across an icy river and up the slick embankment. The chase had taken much from him. He was so tired and a part of him wanted to lie down in the snow and simply fall asleep, as so many others had done. (And leave her to fend for herself? I think not.) He ignored this inclination, and continued to march forward, wading through thigh deep drifts back to the village where a woman was waiting for his return.

**AN HOUR LATER**

Saitoh had smelled the blood before he'd crossed the threshold of his home and entered his bedroom with his sword drawn, uncertain as to what he'd find.

_"Hajime, please come quickly!"_

It was not this.

Lying in a corner, crouched over and holding her hands against her middle, Tokio looked up at him. Clearly in distress, the starkness in her grey eyes brought him up short. She gasped, closed her eyes collapsed to her side, a weak shuddering cry escaping her pale lips.

Suddenly numb, Saitoh sank to his knees, his expression a study in repressed horror and grief as he drew his weeping wife to him. It only took a few seconds to realize what was wrong. His heart sank. She was miscarrying, her body too weak to sustain the life they'd made together. Her kimono, as blue as the night skies of Aizu, was soaked through with blood. She was groaning in agony as violent contractions expelled the contents of her womb several months too early.

_"I'm so sorry Hajime. I was so weak …"_ Dangerously pale from shock and blood loss, Tokio clung to him, her hot tears running down her sunken, cold cheeks. _"If only I could have been stronger, things might have been different… " _And then she cried, his sweet, stoic wife cried as she'd never done before, her body wracked with the bitterest sobs he'd ever heard.

By nightfall it was finished. Saitoh buried the tiny infant beneath the sheltering branches of a cedar tree. Digging first with his sword, then his bare hands, he chipped away at the frozen earth until his fingers bled. He gently placed the cloth swaddled body in the shallow grave, his hands lingering on the still form of his son. A ragged sob escaped from him as he forced himself to push dirt and rocks over the tiny body. There were scavengers in the woods and care had to be taken so that the grave would remain undisturbed. Saitoh collected as many rocks as he could, placing them over the pathetically little mound of dirt, then when he'd done all he could for the child he'd failed to protect, he turned and dejectedly made his way back to a home, to a heartbroken family that was one member short.

That night another winter storm had settled on the valley, vomiting ice and snow on the village and sending already low temperatures, plummeting. Saitoh took off his winter coat and wrapped it tightly around his wife and then pulled the threadbare blanket around them both. Drawing her into his arms, he held her close as she wept for them both and for their child who had perished. Exhausted, both in body and spirit, Tokio eventually succumbed to sleep, though she still sobbed from time to time. Saitoh tried to stay awake, but he too was too grief stricken and weary to keep the inevitable at bay and also began to drift off. As he fell asleep, holding his poor wife close to his aching heart, he could hear groans and cries from the other exiles, carried on the merciless wind, as other families lost loved ones and people slowly froze to death in their own homes.

Saitoh closed his eyes….

**Part II**

And then opened them….

It was dark, but not cold. Confused, his heart racing, Saitoh blinked, trying to make sense of where he was. Gone was the precarious shelter and along with it, the scent of blood, loss and despair. The smoking hearth and icy, bitter wind had been replaced by warmed air coming from a central heating unit. Rather than lying on a cold dirt floor, he found himself inclining on a soft couch, covered with a blanket. (I was dreaming?) He wondered groggily, still half sleep, the memories of another life slow to fade. The only constant variable between this life and the one of memory was that his sweet wife was still with him, nestled safely in his arms, her head resting against his chest as she slept.

(She's not mine…)

More confusion, seeded heavily with grief and guilt, set in. Memory pressed down hard against him, nearly suffocating him with the weight of loss. His wife was dead. He'd failed to protect her and she'd been taken from him, from their children in the worst way imaginable. He was alone.

As if she sensed his distress, Tokio shifted in her sleep and uttered his name softly, her arms tightening around his waist. He leaned down and pressed a kiss into the crown of her head, the action familiar and comforting. No, this was no stranger in his arms, but his better half, the part of him he'd been missing. He knew this woman as well as he knew himself, even if he was unable to articulate how or why. They shared a history, that was powerful, and were linked by a bond that was strong enough to transcend death and time itself.

(No, not alone….not any longer…)

Calloused fingers moved of their own accord, settling against long hair that under moonlight was blue-black, Saitoh brushed her locks to the side, revealing a beautiful, but troubled face in repose. Even like this, bruised and pale, she was undeniably beautiful to him, a bewitching mixture of strength and delicacy that he knew from memory had captured the heart of a somber swordsman many years before, just as surely as it was snaring a New Meiji Police Captain.

The passage of centuries had not diminished his desire for her, not one iota, Saitoh admitted as a new, recent memory of her in his arms, of her sweet mouth against his and her hands moving through his hair as she arched against him played through his mind. He'd been physically attracted to her from the moment he laid eyes on her, his body instantly recognizing her for who she was and had the potential to be.

Taking care not to wake her, but unable not to touch her, Saitoh softly caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. Thankfully her skin was warm and no longer clammy. She'd been spared the night before and was still alive, and would continue to stay that way if he had any say in the matter. She sighed and the ghost of a smile appeared on her pale mouth when his fingers softly traced the outline of her bottom and top lip. Even in sleep she was so damn responsive to him.

He kissed her again, this time on her forehead. Tokio sighed again and snuggled up to him, her breasts (bound as they were beneath a sensible sports bra) pressing up against his chest.

Desire, long dead, stirred deep inside him. Logically, this was not the time or the place for such sentiment, but the drives and desires of the human heart were by their very nature, anything but logical and were based on instinct. He'd been celibate for over three years and his body, sensing that his long-missing mate had been found, was clamoring for a reunion. It was instinct, of the most primitive, imperative variety, that bade him to draw her up close and wake her as he recalled she preferred to meet the morning, with him on top, ravishing her mouth and settled firmly between her thighs.

(Stop it, you oversexed twit!) Saitoh swore internally, damning his body for being all too human in its response to her closeness. His head had to be cracked to be thinking of such things. (It's not the head on your shoulders, Moron, that is doing the thinking right now…) he inwardly snapped as he shifted his weight and picked the sleeping woman up and carried her carefully to the guest bedroom.

Getting her into bed was nearly as difficult as getting her pajama bottoms on, but he managed somehow, despite being stiff and sore and sporting a semi, not to drop her on her head, or crawl into bed with her, two achievements that after the night he'd had, seemed like major accomplishments.

Tokio stirred slightly, one arm reaching out in sleep, as if seeking him out. She sighed, the bow of her mouth curving into a puzzled frown when her searching fingers only found cool bedding.

Refusing to second guess his decision to put some distance between them, Saitoh pulled the covers up beneath her chin and then crept over to the desk in the bedroom. He had a spare tablet in the room, which he used as a storage room for most of his squadron paperwork and spare uniforms.

Sitting down beside the bed in a chair that had once belonged to his father, he quickly logged into the tablet, accessed the report templates and got to work.

**Tokio**

Tokio felt warm, content. She knew exactly where she was; she was snuggled against her husband Hajime's firm, warm chest, folded in his protective embrace. There was no place she would rather be, no one she would rather be with.

She had the sense that she'd survived some sort of trauma. But wasn't that what their life was usually about? Having a police officer for a husband was never dull. Things always seemed to move full speed ahead in their household. Their family was certainly no stranger to danger.

Tokio could feel Hajime's fingers gently tracing her lips. Mmmm, so sweet, her sleepy mind responded. Now he was lacing them through her long, black hair, and she knew *very well* what that meant. It wouldn't be long now. She was looking forward to him waking her before he left for work today, as he did almost every morning. In her opinion there was no better way to start the day, than the mutually stimulating, thoroughly satisfying activity shared by a husband and his wife. But there was something a little off this morning. She should be feeling his bare skin against her chest, but there was something in between. It couldn't have been that cold last night that they'd both donned sleepwear.

Tokio was finally roused from her sleep by the rustle of papers. No, it sounded more like someone tapping on a tablet. She was not fully conscious, yet not still asleep. She was lying on her back in that 'in between' state of awareness. She knew that the bedding beside her was cold. That meant only one thing, since he was not away from home on a mission.

Sometimes her husband could be so consumed by his work. She appreciated his sense of duty and dedication to their country, but for his own good he did need a certain amount of sleep. She could tell that he was nearby.

"Hajime," She whispered, "it's late. Aren't you coming to bed? That paperwork will still be there in the morning. You need to rest. Please come to bed. My feet are cold." She patted the space beside her, then rolled to her side and drifted back to a sound sleep.

**Saitoh**

"_Hajime"_

Saitoh looked up, quirking an eyebrow at Tokio's strange tone of voice. So far, he'd familiarized himself with her prim voice, the voice she used when savaging a hostile witness during a cross examination and the tone she used when she was frightened. This voice was very different, indeed. It was low, confident and soft and reminded him of silk sliding across tempered steel.

He put down his tablet and peered towards the bed, unable to clearly see her face in the dark room. She'd rolled to her side, he could tell by the silhouette of her hips beneath the blanket.

_"It's late. Aren't you coming to bed?"_

Saitoh nearly knocked the tablet on the floor.

"Aa, it's late," he said, dryly, trying for the life of him to figure out if she was awake or not, to say nothing of what he'd do if she was actually serious. "Do you want me to come to bed?" Ever analytical, he figured if she was asleep, she wouldn't respond to a direct question.

_"Mmm..."_ She sighed, a low languid sort of sound that made hairs on the nape of his neck stand straight on end (for all the right reasons) and he could hear bedclothes shifting. _"That paperwork will still be there in the morning. You need to rest."  
_  
He'd heard this line before, from this particular woman. Problem was said line (which he seemed to recall had nearly been as effective as the lure of freshly made soba noodles when she wanted something) hadn't been uttered in a couple hundred years. Saitoh leaned over the chair and peered over at the guest bed, his sharp eyes trying to cut through the dark room to see her face. He supposed he could simply turn on the light, but the idea that he wasn't smart enough to know if a woman was awake or not rankled his pride.

She'd answered a direct question, true, and seemed to be responding to verbal stimuli. If she asked him again, he was half inclined to seriously ponder the merits (all positive as far as he could tell) of her request.

_"Please come to bed. My feet are cold…" _Tokio whispered, patting the space beside her on the bed.

Saitoh was out of the chair and leaning over said empty space that she was patting, when she suddenly rolled over.

"Tokio?"

Saitoh hissed her name and waited for a second.

Nothing.

"Hey," he reached out and gently nudged her back with his hand.

She snorted contentedly and snuggled down under the covers.

She was asleep.

(And has been for the last five minutes, you moron…)

Saitoh rolled his eyes.

(Gods, Demons and Ice Cold Showers)

Apparently his vaunted deductive skills were for shit when it came to this woman and nocturnal invitations. Torn between pissed and bemused, the decided to go with the latter and leaned down, pressed a quick kiss on the forehead of the unconscious tease and then left the room, only to return a few minutes later, with a pair of wool socks with red toes that he wore under his combat boots when going on intercepts.

"Here you go, you crazy woman," he muttered, almost but not quite, keeping a smile from forming as he lifted up the covers, grabbed her bare feet (which were cold, after all) and got them properly covered before he returned to his chair and went back to work.

_**To continue with the adventures of Hajime and Tokio, please read the fic, **__**The Day After**__**.**_


End file.
